Playing Life

Lonnie Smith on getting funky and free.

All Lonnie Smith wants for his birthday is complete
control. After five decades as a recording artist, it’s not too much for
the soon-to-be 70-year-old organist to ask. If you tour his
discography—particularly the four classic albums he cut for Blue Note in
the 1960s—it’s hard to imagine he was ever stifled much creatively:
Across the 30-plus records bearing his name, Smith’s music has ranged
from gritty funk workouts to Afro-Latin grooves to psychedelic
head-trips. His live shows are among the funkiest experiences known to
man. But as he discusses his life and still-ongoing career—winding
through tales of performing with fellow jazz legends Lou Donaldson and
George Benson, of witnessing firsthand the transformations of Miles
Davis and John Coltrane, of jamming with James Brown—Smith casually
mentions moments of bending to the will of producers, getting his parts
cut in post-production, and being ripped off by greedy execs.

That’s why, as he
approaches a milestone birthday, Smith is giving himself a gift: His own
label. Later this year, Smith will launch Pilgrimage Productions. Its
first release is a live-in-the-studio session Smith recorded last month
with a septet of hot, young musicians in a refurbished warehouse in
Queens. Clips from the session—available on the Kickstarter page funding
the project—show Smith, with his white, wispy beard and ever-present
turban (he’s a converted Sikh), delivering a fiery, near-spiritual
performance. At this point, the man doesn’t play an instrument—in his
words, he simply “plays life.”

“The organ ain’t nothing,” he says in a convivial rasp, over the phone from New York. “It don’t breathe until I breathe.”

WW: What initially drew you to the organ?Lonnie Smith: I first discovered the organ in the church. I
loved the sound. It had a full sound. It was warm. It had everything
that I loved. It vibrated. I was drawn to it right away.

You don’t read music, and you’ve had no formal training. Where did your musical ability come from?I think it had a lot with being around
that kind of vibe. My mother was a vocalist. She used to sing gospel
with her sister, and her mother used to sing. My cousins would come
over, and I would sing with them. I was young, and I used to jump in
with the harmony. As far as the instruments are concerned, that’s a gift
from God. I remember when I was in second or third grade. I went to
visit my aunt, and she had a piano. I had never seen a piano, not
really. And I got up on the piano, and I remember the first song I
picked out [to play] was a song called “Crying in the Chapel.” My
parents came out and they didn’t believe it. It was strange. I didn’t
believe it, but I picked it out and played it like it was nothing. It
was a gift.

You’ve always played the Hammond B3, which is a massive instrument. That must be difficult to haul around.Sure, sure. But you got to admit, when you see me, you see
how buff I am. [Laughs] I’m pretty big. When we’d play, you’d be trying
to move it and the guy would say, “I have to go to the bathroom,” or,
“I have to go to a car,” and you’d sit there and wait for them and
they’d [have] gone. So I’d have to move it myself. It’s really that
tough.

You speak often about “playing life.” Explain that concept.When you play life, it’s like everyday living. When you
wake up, you got a feeling that day. Sometimes people feel bad. You had a
bad day. Somebody hurt you. Play that, instead of fighting against it.
When you fight against it, you fight against the grain. If you’re hurt,
play hurt; sorrow, play it. If you’re happy, play it. But if you fight
it, it’s like a circle and a square. Don’t force it. A lot of musicians
get frustrated, because they hear someone else play, and they say, “Ah, I
wish I could play like that.” I always tell them, you’re only great
within. Play within yourself. In other words, play to your potential,
and you’re just as great as that other person.